The words ‘granny’ and ‘sauce’ should never occupy the same space. Even as a granny, I have to admit the phrase sounds skeevy.
Hear me out, though.
Of course, I have heard wine referred to as ‘mommy juice’. I get it. Everyone has at least one crutch. Some of us have an aisle of them. I’ve read blog posts that rip apart calling wine ‘mommy juice’ as being flippant and disrespectful of people who have booze issues. I’ve read posts that don’t like the term because it speaks of weakness and not dealing with normal stress in life in a healthy way.
Personally, I’m not going to judge. Like I said, we all have our crutches.
I remember the fights and messes when my kids were young. I remember what it was like to blend families together. There were days when ‘mommy juice’ would be savored in a painted wine glass that said ‘we can do hard things’ or ‘my other wine glass is a bong’. Some days, the mommy juice would be poured into the orange sippy cup with one broken handle.
It’s 3:00 p.m. and a neighbor just called to tell you little Johnny was tossing out some racial slurs that he picked up from your husband’s dumbass grandfather? It’s not too early to break out that painted glass.
Your formally sweet daughter started high school and her period at the same time and has been channeling Lucretia Borgia? Yep, a little wine takes the edge off those confrontations over booty shorts, boys, and curfews.
Who could begrudge you an extra glass of wine after the baby finally cries himself to sleep on a night that your husband goes out for after work drinks? All you want to do is sleep. Just for a few hours. As exhausted as you are, all you can hear is the ghost of the baby’s cries and the recriminations running through you head telling you why the cries are your fault
You spend an evening with PTO moms and realize that you forgot to change into your ‘good’ yoga pants and your sneakers are grass stained. They also sneered at your ideas and you realized it was better when they completely ignored you. This situation calls for mommy juice and bad TV.
There are so many advantages to getting to the ‘granny’ years.
There exists a freedom that comes with age and an empty nest.
There are still lessons to learn, though. For instance, getting older doesn’t mean you’re getting wiser. If you make the same ill-thought out decisions, you get the same disappointing results. Plus, you’ll be more gray and your bones ache a little more.
You also learn that just because your kids are grown doesn’t mean the worry ends. Sometimes, the grown up worry feels deeper and heavier than the kid worry.
Then your children procreate and you relive all the old fears. Are their babies healthy? Will your grandchildren be accepted by their peers or will they suffer?
You know without a doubt that your grandbabies will suffer. Everyone suffers. Growing and learning are often wrapped in pain. Just because you love your grandkids more than you love not being at work and breathing, won’t protect them from life slapping them around a little. Or a lot.
A quietness comes with getting older, though. Sure, the worry runs deep and runs deeper with every new baby. However, you do gain a level of acceptance that eluded us when we were younger parents.
We’re still needed, just in different ways. Usually, we don’t have to deal with spit up on our shoulder or middle of the night trips to the drugstore because of a spiking fever. We’re on the phone with our adult kids as they cry and worry over how they are parenting and we tell them they are fine. And that we love them.
Then we hang up and worry. We cry over mistakes we made and wonder how we will affect the next generation.
There comes a time, when mommy juice gets replaced by granny sauce.
Recipe for perfect granny sauce: Shot glass. Tequila.